“Make peace? Sure.”
Now exactly how was she supposed to do that?
CHAPTER 19
BJ hunkered down in the back of the bus his cousin William had chartered and pulled his baseball cap over his eyes to try to catch a snooze, but another huge pothole jarred him awake. Although the distance was shorter, this ride seemed much longer than the limo ride had been. Every minute he was forced to endure his cousin’s company seemed like an eternity, and this rolling wreck the cheapskate had herded them onto like cattle was adding to his misery.
BJ knew at the first opportunity, William would come snooping, and after trading a few insults, would want to know what was in each of their backpacks and expect them to share. The bastard needed to cut his Bible-thumping mother’s apron strings and buy his own libations. Mooching rather than buying wouldn’t make a bit of difference to his fire-and-brimstone spewing mother.
Bastard. The word hit him like a texting driver running a stoplight. He should purge it from his vocabulary. Megan was going to be there today, and he still hadn’t figured out exactly how he was going to orchestrate his apology. It wasn’t something he’d had to do very often, especially with a woman. On the rare occasion contrition had been required, a bouquet of fifteen yellow roses had usually done the trick. But by that point in the relationship, he’d been half-way out the door anyway, so he hadn’t cared if his woman-of-the-month accepted his apology or not; it had merely been a question of a friendly or less-than-friendly parting. BJ always preferred friendly, but he could accept either. The flowers had always been a token gesture so he could tell himself he’d tried.
But he had never truly tried because in the end, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Things were never going to work out, regardless of who or when. Honestly, it didn’t matter this time either. Megan could accept his apology or not. As long as he could assure his mother he had sincerely made the effort, he would have proven his worthiness. His mother was the only woman he had to make happy, and after what they’d been through together, as long as he kept breathing, he pretty much had that covered.
It would have been easy to send Megan the required conciliatory bouquet, but he wasn’t sure she’d understand the significance of the standard apology he’d been taught to send early in his social training. At least that’s what he wanted to believe. The real reason he hadn’t sent the roses? He couldn’t come up with four or five appropriate words the card would have required. Sure, they had ridiculous little cards showing a guy crawling out of a doghouse, and others with some variation on the “I’m sorry” theme to which someone would sign his name, probably in the fancy calligraphy women liked. But this time, saying it with flowers seemed like the coward’s way out.
And BJ was no coward, right? Damn those stupid rhetorical questions. BJ knew this was nowhere near a rhetorical question. Everything about her threw him off his well-crafted game. He had to get his shit together or he was screwed. And not in a good way.
At least he and his brothers had planned ahead to make sure they had plenty of libations. On the menu today, rum to spike the gallons of fruit punch that would be lined up outside the church. Ghetto daiquiris. Yum.
BJ paused. Why, all of a sudden, did that seem wrong too? Damn that volatile woman. Their ten-minute conversation had messed with his head. If you could call what they’d had a conversation. Discussion? Debate? Argument? Yes, argument. There was no other word for it. Loud, spirited, and deeply disturbing. Not only because it challenged his conservative political views, but because it was the first time a woman had ignited the passions between his ears, not just between his legs. And boy, did she ignite the passion between his legs. Sparring with her had been fun and more than a little sexy. Scraps of their argument had haunted his dreams. Dreams that all ended the same way: with her in his arms, their lips locked, surrendering to each other’s passions. BJ squirmed in his seat to hide the effects of the memory.
“Well, if it isn’t the five stooges.” His cousin William’s voice assaulted BJ’s ears. He could kiss that nap goodbye.
“Oh, man, who farted?” BJ said, not bothering to raise the brim of his hat.
“Nobody, bro, it’s Little Willie,” Shane responded.
“Dude, you need a fresh Depends,” Quinn snarked.
“Or at least you could shower once in a while,” Knox chimed in.
Riley was too busy flirting with the blonde in the next row to notice the exchange. So his brother had already picked who, now it was a matter of where. He’d keep that tidbit to himself. Anything for an edge in the guessing game that loomed in their future.
“I don’t know who they are, but I love them,” BJ heard one Clausen Construction employee whisper to another. So the Clausen crew hated Little Willie as much as they did. Somehow, BJ wasn’t surprised.
William stiffened, whether in response to their insults or to hearing his employee, BJ wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. That William was annoyed was enough for him.
“It’s a great day to do a good deed, eh, Little Willie?” BJ asked a little louder than necessary. A few giggles and one outright guffaw urged him on. “Habitat for Humanity ain’t got nuthin’ on us. We will all surely go to heaven. Bruthas, can I get an amen?” He waved his hands in the air.
For once, his brothers did not disappoint him. Especially Shane. “A-fuckin’-men,” his baby brother’s deep voice boomed out. The crowd loved it. They were killing it.
“I sincerely doubt I’ll meet you in heaven, Cousin Brian.”
William was serious. BJ could go there. “Yeah, too bad about that. But don’t worry. I’m sure after all these years with Aunt Lillian, you’ll get used to Hell. How much worse can it be?”
That brought down the house. William pivoted and marched to the front of the bus. The wave of silence grew as he passed row after row of his employees.
“Yep, I’m deeply in love,” the mystery employee said.
“Which one?” another voice asked.
“Any of them. All of them. A girl can dream.”
If it was that easy to get a woman to fall in love with him, conquering Megan should be a piece of cake.
Yeah, a guy could dream.
* * *
A sudden gust of wind sent Megan’s papers scattering. As she scrambled to capture them, she noticed a hint of his cologne in the breeze. Maybe it’s someone else with the same scent. But she knew better. She’d been watching for him since she’d seen the Clausen Construction bus pull up, unsure whether she should confront or avoid him. Would he be enough of an ass to call her out in public and rehash everything?
Even though she had promised Ethan she would try to make peace with BJ, she hadn’t been able to figure out a way to do that without validating his beliefs. That was not going to happen. Somehow, she’d have to find a way for them to disagree without being disagreeable. But she’d be damned if she made all of the concessions. He owed her as many apologies as she owed him. As if a man like BJ would ever admit he was wrong.
And that was strike three. Or was he up to four or five strikes? There were so many reasons for her to stay away from him that she’d lost count.
But the growing mountain of arguments against him didn’t outweigh the single, mammoth justification: she wanted him.
Holy guacamole, she wanted him. What the hell was she supposed to do with that piece of information?
Before she could fully comprehend what was happening inside her head, the crowd in front of her parted as BJ and his brothers made their way toward the staging area.
Whispers ran through the crowd. “That’s them.” And “Are you sure they’re related to Mr. Clausen?” And “Dibs on the tallest one.”
Yeah, sister, you can have the tallest one, but the shortest one is mine.
William Clausen marched to the front of the gathering and called for everyone’s attention. His gaze settled on his cousins; the little gnome reminded her of Gollum from Lord of the Rings. His malicious smile, aimed directly at BJ, made her want to h
ide under the picnic table. How was it possible he shared a gene pool with BJ and his brothers?
“I have your assignments for the day.” Even his voice reminded her of Gollum. She was surprised he didn’t end his sentence with “my precious.” That would have sent her scurrying into the church for holy water. She suppressed a shudder.
William pointed to her. “This is Megan Smith; she’s the project coordinator. You all report to her, and she reports to me. Dear cousin Junior,” William’s smile grew more threatening as he zeroed in on BJ, “you’re Megan’s lackey today. If she says jump, you will jump.”
“What?” Megan snapped at William. She had hoped to offer her apologies then avoid BJ as much as possible for the rest of the day. Memories of being in his arms for the photos and their confrontation had invaded her dreams; dreams in which she had indeed silenced their argument with a sizzling kiss. Kisses he’d returned with equal fire. Kisses that pulled them deeper into passion. She didn’t need this complication in her life right now. She didn’t need it, but she wanted it. And she knew she couldn’t have it.
“The rest of you check the list on the picnic table. Have fun.” And with that, William left. He had no intention of getting dirty with the riffraff.
Good riddance.
CHAPTER 20
BJ watched his brothers fan out. Quinn had pulled garden detail. Knox went off to help build a playscape. Shane a trash bag.
Damn, it totally sucked to be Shane.
Riley grabbed two paintbrushes and walked with the blonde from the bus toward the rectory. God help the poor woman; she doesn’t stand a chance.
BJ reminded himself to keep an eye on his middle brother. He took out his phone and sent a group text to his other brothers:
BJ: Riley and the blonde behind the church. $20. His phone immediately lit up,
Shane: Covered, but in the church
Quinn: I’m in, some backyard
Knox: Me too, an empty house and make it $50.
It was sort of their own version of the board game Clue. Riley in the...fill in the blank with a...fill in the blank. It was almost always a blonde and always someplace barely private.
He’d probably scoped out all of the good spots during the wedding reception and knew exactly where he was headed. The higher the likelihood he would get caught, the more Riley liked it.
Damn, if he didn’t stop thinking about his brother’s sexcapades, BJ would embarrass himself. He turned his attention to Megan. “Well, Boss Lady, where do you want me to start? Should I get you some coffee? I could give you a foot massage.” He paused to accept a sapphire blue Clausen Charities Renovation Project T-shirt. He stripped out of the shirt he was wearing and turned to toss it onto the picnic table.
“I don’t need coffee and my feet are fine today, thank you. Please put your shirt on so we can get to work.”
Her words said one thing, but her eyes said something totally different. She’s thawing. BJ unleashed a crooked smile. “I’m perfectly fine with a little sexual harassment, Boss Lady. Your actions will not be reported, but they will be evaluated.” BJ ran his eyes over her. “But don’t worry, I always grade on a curve.” He wagged his eyebrows, then he bowed. If he was going to be stuck with her all day, he might as well enjoy himself.
But stuck was exactly the wrong word. Especially since he had been hoping to see her.
“My wish is for you to put your damned shirt on!”
This was going to be fun. William’s plan to annoy him had backfired; the evil little twerp had given BJ exactly what he’d been hoping for. More than he was hoping for. The guy might not be so bad after all.
Nah, William was pure evil, but even Obama had been right a few times. That was too generous. He might have been right once, when he’d hosted the Philadelphia Phillies after their World Series win in 2008. But he hadn’t been elected yet when the Phillies had won, so that didn’t count.
“So tell me, Boss Lady, what’s on the agenda for today? Do we have to get dirty or are we strictly management?”
The poor woman could barely get a sentence out. “Well, I... uh... that is I... Damn you, put your shirt on. I can’t think with you flashing me like that!”
Oh, she wanted flashing, did she? He could go there. Soon. But for now, he would engage in a little petty revenge for the way she’d made a fool out of him the last time they’d been here. Yeah, he’d seen the video his beloved brothers had posted on their pitiful “news” website. And so had most of his friends.
Fun? Oh, hell no. This was going to be a humdinger. He rotated his neck and shoulders as if he was getting ready to weight train.
* * *
Megan fought the urge to drool as his muscles rippled with the simple motion. The breeze caught a stronger piece of his scent. How could she have thought another man would smell like that? Memories assailed her. Memories of being cradled in his arms for the photos in the gazebo a few yards behind them.
He’s beautiful. Her body didn’t compare favorably, all bruised and scratched from Pete’s aggressive breastfeeding, her nipples swollen and cracked, her stomach covered with hideous stretch marks from pregnancy that would never completely go away. When he turned back to her bare-chested, she had to remind herself not to pant.
His body was sculpted to perfection. Stephanie had told her about the competitive workouts the brothers engaged in until one of them puked. One more sit-up, one more rep, one more lap until it was either surrender or die. BJ obviously didn’t like to surrender.
Dream on, sister.
She knew his reputation for intense but brief relationships with beautiful, sophisticated trust fund babies like himself. It might be fun, but it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. A month, two at most, then he’d be gone. She couldn’t do that; she had a baby to think about.
But he wasn’t going to make this easy on her, damn him. Megan wasn’t sure which him she was damning—William for forcing them together or BJ for being so... so sexy, so close. But she couldn’t let herself go there. Not today and probably not ever. BJ might be fun for a while, but he would eventually leave her with a broken heart, like Smitty.
But Smitty hadn’t left her. Smitty had died; he’d been killed by a drunk driver hours before Pete had been born. That was totally different. But the end results would be the same: she’d be alone and broken. She didn’t think she could go through the pain again. It would be best for everyone if she stayed away from this tantalizingly delicious man with heartbreak written all over him in other women’s lipstick.
Everyone had left her except for Ethan. But he had moved on with his life. She couldn’t blame him. She’d left him to build a life with Smitty. A life built on lies and deception. Smitty had been married to someone else. To Stephanie. Sort of. Again, it had been Ethan who had rescued her. Then he’d literally started sleeping with the enemy.
To be fair, if Ethan and Stephanie hadn’t been lovers, Ethan would never have figured out that Smitty and Stephanie had been cousins and that their marriage had been part of Smitty’s grandmother’s plot to hand Stephanie’s company over to him. Ethan’s discovery had made Megan the rightful Mrs. Smith and kept her precious son from being illegitimate like her.
“Have pity on a poor girl and put your shirt on, Mr. Tobin. I have a very good weapon against creeps like you.” She paused to point toward the gazebo. “And he’s over there talking to your father right now.”
BJ winced but followed her finger to where Ethan stood with Brian. Everyone knew Ethan’s ruthlessly aggressive reputation and the pleasure he took in crushing his opponents. Megan had used that general knowledge to her advantage more than once. Being Ethan’s sister might have a few drawbacks, but there were as many, if not more, benefits. Megan had no doubt, given a reason, Ethan would smash BJ like a bug.
BJ chortled. “I’m up to the challenge. I’ve managed to avoid overprotective parents, belligerent brothers, and obsessed ex-boyfriends for years.”
“I’m not so sure you’d be able to beat Ethan. Please pu
t your shirt on so we don’t have to find out,” she warned.
It was the absolute last thing she wanted him to do, but only because stripping totally naked in front of a church was out of the question.
Unless you counted that shirt that had come flying over the hedge.
CHAPTER 21
“What?” BJ followed her gaze.
“I think someone didn’t like their new shirt.” She pointed toward the hedge. A second shirt joined the first.
BJ shook his head in disgust and pulled out his phone: It’s a bust, the dude’s behind the hedge east of the rectory. I’m stealing the shirts.
Quinn: No way! That counts as some backyard. The pot’s mine! I demand a vote!
Knox: You HONESTLY think we’re going to vote to give you our money?
Shane: I’m with Knox.
Quinn: There’s a name for people who don’t pay up!
BJ: Damn it I hate it when Quinn’s right. I’m gonna steal the shirts anyway.
Still bare-chested, he casually walked over to the hedge, snatched the shirts, and laid them on a picnic table twenty feet away. Ever the gentleman, Riley would undoubtedly retrieve the shirts to save his lady the indignity of appearing topless in public, but BJ knew that the missing clothing would send a momentary bolt of panic through his brother. That made losing fifty bucks tolerable.
Megan cleared her throat. “Your shirt, please.”
“All right, all right, hold your horses. It’s like you’ve never seen a man’s chest before.” And he was willing to bet—hell, he was always willing to bet, on anything—that she hadn’t seen one as fine as his.
He took his time and flexed a bit before slipping the shirt over his head. He slowly ran his hands down his chest and stomach to smooth the crisp, new T-shirt over his body. Here comes the flashing, sweetheart.
He casually unlatched his belt, undid the button, and lowered the zipper of his jeans to tuck the shirt in, taking extra care to make sure it didn’t bunch up in front. He didn’t need any extra padding to accentuate the bulge already begging for attention. He made an extra pass over his bulge before zipping, buttoning, and buckling up.
Fly Boy: A Friends to Lovers Standalone Romance (Tobin Tribe Book 2) Page 8
